


Seasons Will Change (not letting you walk away)

by Tru



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Angst, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tru/pseuds/Tru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "what if?" post episode 24.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons Will Change (not letting you walk away)

**Spring**

The steady blip of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator are both reassuring and unnerving. Kotetsu is too pale beneath the white-out lighting of the hospital room, and he looks so small in his nest of wires and tubes that for a moment Barnaby has a hard time remembering that he's the younger of the two of them.

He feels old, the strain of the past few days dragging his shoulders down and drawing lines on his face that weren't there just a week ago. His fingers twist around the domino mask in his hands, then smooth away the wrinkles caused by his grip.

“I was so angry,” he says, low and hoarse. His gaze flickers to Kotetsu's face, and flinches away from the bruises and burns, settling on the line of light that jumps across the heart monitor, far more steadily than the painful thud of his own pulse. “At you, at first. If only you'd trusted me, told me.”

Barnaby is silent for a moment, his eyes closed against the sting that has become all too familiar of late. Footsteps pass outside the door as he takes a breath, finds his voice again.

“The I was angry at the other heroes. If only they hadn't been so weak, taken so easily,” he manages a bitter, broken little laugh, “And Kaede too. If she hadn't come to Sternbild...”

He sighs, reaching out to run a fingertip over a small patch of skin on Kotetsu's hand, between the needles, wires and scrapes. He can feel the heat of tears at the corners of his eyes, but he's long since given up on stopping them.

“Then I realized. There was no one to be angry with but myself,” his voice is thick now, but there's only Kotetsu to hear the rare emotion so he continues through the ache in his throat. “You tried to tell me. You were going to retire, but I... If only I'd let you... If I...”

The tears are coming too quickly then, falling from Barnaby's skin to make darker spots on the mask clenched in his hands. He lowers his head as the first sob shoves through his words, forehead coming to rest beside Kotetsu's hand on the starched hospital sheets. He longs for the comfort of fingers touching his hair, a hand resting on his heaving shoulder, a deep voice telling him that it's okay. Instead, he's left with only the shuddering sound of his crying, the constant beep of the heart monitor, and the mechanical hiss of the machine that breathes for Kotetsu.

 

 **Summer**

“Kaede has a break soon, so she'll be visiting,” Barnaby says, brushing a lock of Kotetsu's hair off his forehead before settling into the chair beside the bed. “I'll have to trim your hair again. ”

He's quiet for a moment, readjusting to the sounds of machines and the sterile scent of the air. He reaches out to thread his fingers through Kotetsu's, sighing as the warmth of Kotetsu's hand seems to drain the tension from his shoulders. He remembers the chill of those fingers before the machines took over and he pushes the memory away, to be poured over later when he's alone in his apartment.

“You'd be proud,” he says with only the smallest of hitches in his voice, “She's doing amazing things at the academy, helping other NEXT learn how to control their powers. She was worried that you'd be disappointed if she didn't become a hero, but I know you'd understand how important her work is.”

He squeezes Kotetsu's hand, reaching out to pick up one of the half-dozen pictures that sits on the table beside the bed. It shows Antonio, with a young boy dangling from each arm, their grip tight around his biceps.

“I'll need to get you a new picture,” he says, a faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth, “Antonio and Agnes are expecting again.”

Setting the picture down, he looks back at Kotetsu, too easily able to see the shadows of bruises no longer there. Another thought to push aside.

“He's hoping for a girl this time, said four boys would be too much to handle.” He glances at another photo, this of Keith in a tuxedo and a woman wearing a white suit. “I think he just wants his own little princess to spoil, now that Keith's little girl has become such a tomboy and won't wear the dresses Antonio buys for her.”

The chair scrapes a little on the floor as Barnaby slides it closer to the bed. He lifts Kotetsu's hand, careful as always of the single IV needle that remains, and presses Kotetsu's knuckles to his lips. He closes his eyes, gathers the words he wants to say.

“I told Lloyds the other day that I was thinking about retiring,” he chuckles, leaning his cheek against Kotetsu's hand. “He was a bit upset.”

He looks at Kotetsu's face, having no trouble imagining the shock that would have shown under other circumstances. It's a simple matter to imagine the protests that would have come as well.

“I know, I know,” he says, another smile teasing his lips, “I'm too young to retire, and heroes are important. There's not as much for us to do, now that Ouroborus is gone, and the others can handle it without me. Besides, I'm the only hero without a partner now. They're all still following our trend.”

He lowers Kotetsu's hand back to the bed, keeping their fingers twined as he shrugs. “I'm considering taking up my parents' work, but there's time to think about it.”

After that, he's silent, content to sit and listen to the steady, familiar sounds of the heart monitor and ventilator.

 

 **Autumn**

It's raining, and for once Barnaby isn't prepared. He comes in shaking drops of water from his hair, the dampness helping to disguise the silver strands now heavily threaded through the gold. He hangs his jacket beside the door, ignoring the water that drips and pools beneath it, and walks toward the bed.

He leans his cane against the bedside table, places a small package on the seat of the chair, and bends down to brush a kiss across Kotetsu's cheek. He smooths Kotetsu's hair, which has gone a steely grey, and perches on the bed beside Kotetsu's hip. His eyes are shining, surrounded by creases deepened by his smile.

“Kaede and the baby came home today,” he says, taking one of Kotetsu's hands between both of his own. “The way she smirked at me, I thought she'd named her daughter Usagi just to spite me.”

A soft laugh spills from his mouth, and he lowers his gaze to where he strokes gentle circles on Kotetsu's palm. “She didn't, of course, no matter how much she teased that she would. No,” here, Barnaby's voice becomes choked, and tears rim his eyes. “She named your beautiful granddaughter Tora.”

A shuddering breath, and Barnaby scrapes together enough control to continue speaking. “She's amazing, Kotetsu. You'd be so proud.”

Barnaby picks up the package he'd left on the chair, and draws out a framed photograph. In the picture, Kaede beams at the camera; exhausted, bedraggled, but nothing less than beautiful for all of it. In her arms, she cradles a tiny, pink bundle. A tuft of brown hair peeks out beneath a knit cap decorated with leaping bunnies—a gift from Antonio.

He places the photograph on the table beside the bed, making sure it takes a prime position amidst all the other photos that crowd the surface. Every smiling face, every milestone recorded there, makes the lump in his throat grow.

“You've missed so much,” he whispers, leaning down so that his forehead presses to Kotetsu's. There are tears, but the ache is old—familiar--and he's grown used to breathing around the hollow in his chest. “I miss you so much,” he says, his voice small and lost.

Stretching out beside Kotetsu, Barnaby rests his head on Kotetsu's chest. The slow, steady thump of Kotetsu's heart beneath his ear offers a comfort that the sharp tone of the heart monitor never could.

 

 **Winter**

“It's what he wanted,” Kaede says, holding tight to the hand of the young girl that stands beside her.

Kaede has lines around her mouth and eyes, and grief is heavy on her shoulders as she gently lowers the urn she carries to the table.

“He never should have done it,” she says, sitting down in the well-worn chair and pulling the girl into her lap. Unconsciously, she rocks back and forth, stroking the child's hair. “If he'd only told me.”

Her eyes are red-rimmed but dry, as though all her tears have been used up through the years of difficulty and loss. She's quiet for a time, save for the humming that soon eases her daughter into sleep.

“He died a hero, you know. Even though he had retired.” The words seem almost absent, as though her mind is elsewhere. “It was the last criminal he'd put away, the one that injured his leg. I guess he thought it was his responsibility to see it to the end again.”

There's another pause, this one void of the humming from the last. Exhaustion in clear on her face, dark smudges under her eyes.

“I don't know what to say,” she says at last. “At first, I thought it was only guilt. I know every one of us felt that way, but his was the worst, I think.”

She sighs, settling back in the chair and shifting Tora on her lap. “He took care of everything, you know. Every expense, every comfort he could conceive; money or time, it meant nothing and he never hesitated to use his influence if he thought it would help.”

“Eventually, I realized it wasn't guilt. I don't know how I missed it for so long. Too obsessed with my own mourning, I guess.”

She turns her head, looking at the pictures that surround the urn she'd placed on the table. Reaching out, she scoops up one of them and smiles. The frame holds a shot of Kotetsu enthusiastically pushing a plate of fried rice at a scowling Barnaby.

“He loved you, Daddy, and he's waiting for you now. Don't make him wait much longer, please.”

Now her tears come, and she sets down the photograph to pick up a thick sheaf of papers instead. Awkwardly, juggling her daughter and with a shaking hand, she signs her name to the order that will remove the life support equipment from around her father's bed.

For one last night, she'll sit beside him and listen to the wheezing hiss of the ventilator and the steady pulse of the heart monitor. Then, it will be time for her to say goodbye to her hero.

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic was inspired by the song "Bring It Back" by Kris Allen. It played on my iPod on my way to work the day after I watched episode 24, and a particular section made me think of Barnaby after these events.
> 
> "Forgive my mouth for not letting you walk away."
> 
> It just hit me with how much guilt Barnaby must feel after reacting as he did to Kotetsu's decision to retire. In light of that, and after listening to this song on repeat for a couple of days, this fic was born. Please forgive my errors, as this was written quickly and not beta read. EDIT: Replaced a word that was misused and fixed one small thing that didn't work, but the story is unchanged.


End file.
